


Forged for Battle

by Woodface



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3410117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodface/pseuds/Woodface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The smell of leather and saddle soap mixes with the scent of iron and fire in the armory. Cassandra finds it pleasant - reassuring, even - in its familiarity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forged for Battle

**Author's Note:**

> @thatvagrant wanted Josephine/Cassandra so here you go.
> 
> Thanks to avesnongrata for the beta!

The smell of leather and saddle soap mixes with the scent of iron and fire in the armory. Cassandra finds it pleasant - reassuring, even - in its familiarity. Though the Inquisitor had offered her more comfortable chambers inside the keep, this is where Cassandra feels truly at home. That they light the furnaces even before the sun rises is only a perk as it forces Cassandra to start her own day.

Cassandra adjusts the saddle in her lap, rearranging it before she scoops up some more soap, rubbing it into the leather. Her mind is set to the task, her thoughts free of anything but this moment. It means she nearly jumps off the bench when a voice cuts through the peace. 

"Why do you not join us at the war table anymore?"

Cassandra stares at Josephine, and she wonders how long the woman has been watching her, whether she missed a greeting before the abrupt question.

"Josephine," she says, pulling the saddle back as it went sliding off her lap as she startled.

"Cassandra." Josephine smiles and bunches up her skirt as she takes a seat beside Cassandra on the bench.

Cassandra feels like squirming, aware of how she has not yet taken the time to freshen up and how she is sticky with sweat as the furnaces burn inside the armory. She enjoys the heat, but Josephine looks clean, and while she is wearing one of her more casual outfits, she still looks very much like a noble.

"So?" Josephine prompts after a moment in which Cassandra is staring far too much.

Cassandra quickly glances down at the leather strap she is fidgeting with. She reaches for the soap again and sets to her task, keeping her hands busy as she considers the question. "I do join you," she points out.

"When the Inquisitor asks for you," Josephine agrees, but it is obviously not a satisfactory answer. "You didn't need to be asked in Haven."

"No," Cassandra agrees. She straightens her back, squares her shoulder as she stares ahead. "That was before. I am not needed there now."

"The Inquisitor still looks to you for guidance," Josephine argues. There is heat to her words, enough to draw Cassandra's gaze away from the wall and to the woman sitting beside her.

"She looks to me for advice," Cassandra relents, but she shakes her head. "She does not need it. Not any more. Haven has changed her; she has become what we needed her to be."

"I don't understand." Josephine's eyebrows knit together, and Cassandra wants to fidget when Josephine studies her face as if she can find her answers there. "Just because the Inquisitor has grown into her own, doesn't mean we don't value your input, Cassandra. Maker, it's good having your insight to balance out Cullen's."

Cassandra laughs, but it's self conscious and deprecating, and she tugs at a strap. "I am as much a hammer as he is, Josephine. Do not kid yourself there, Cullen and I are not so unlike each other."

"You are wrong," Josephine sounds so convinced, and Cassandra snaps her head up in surprise. "You sell yourself short."

Cassandra opens her mouth to argue, but Josephine settles her hand over hers, stilling her fingers on the leather and keeping her from taking it apart. 

"I don't want to talk about Cullen, Cassandra. That wasn't why I came here. _You_ started this. All this, it is _your_ doing. The Inquisitor looks to you, whether you want to believe that or not. So why have you pulled back now? You have a place at the war table as much as any of us does. Even more so."

Cassandra flushes; she wants to pull her hands out from underneath Josephine's. Her skin is warm, almost burning, and it gets a little hard to breathe. " _We_ all did this."

Josephine frowns at her, and Cassandra stares down at their hands. Her own are rough and callused, while Josephine's are smooth and soft. Josephine's fingers are slender and beautiful, and Cassandra can imagine Josephine playing a princess in one of her romance novels. The title would suit her so much better than it would Cassandra. 

"Truth is, I care not for the role. Divine Justinia knew this. She used me as a weapon, a tool of intimidation. I am more comfortable with a blade in my hand. I took command because I needed to. The Inquisitor was not yet ready to have the whole camp looking upon her for every detail. I know I am good at commanding, but that does not mean I enjoy it, Josephine," Cassandra explains patiently. 

Josephine squeezes her hands, and Cassandra becomes fascinated as she notices the ink staining the inside of Josephine's finger. She brushes her own against the mark, and beside her she hears a quiet Oh. 

"What?" Josephine asks as she must see something on Cassandra's face. 

Cassandra bites her lip, but she has no answer. It is such a silly thing to be fascinated by, but Josephine is perfection, and this is human. "Nothing," she says quickly, glancing up and wishing Josephine would pull her hands away. "Does that answer your question to satisfaction?" she asks instead, hoping to distract the Antivan.

"I believe so," Josephine nods, and she must be satisfied as she draws her hands away. Cassandra misses their heat, and she fidgets with a buckle. She pretends not to notice the soft scent of lavender even here in the armory, where powerful smells and sounds drown everything else out.

Cassandra thinks that is the end of it, but Josephine does not say her goodbyes or turn to go. She is watching her with a look Cassandra can't even begin to understand. Cassandra ducks her head and reaches for the saddle soap once more. She almost misses the next words.

"I just miss you," Josephine speaks softly, and Cassandra stares at her skirt, stares at the soft curve of Josephine's hip. "I value your opinions and-" She breaks off and steps closer, soft fingers curling underneath Cassandra's chin, and she relents to the pressure, staring up in warm brown eyes. "I miss _you_."

"I am still here," Cassandra frowns, not comprehending, but there's a soft fluttering in her stomach as Josephine's fingers trace her jaw.

"Here in the armory, yes," Josephine agrees, and Cassandra has to admit that it has been a while since she has joined them. She takes her meals with Bull and Krem now rather than with the rest of the advisors.

"You should join us this evening," Cassandra blurts out. "At the Herald's Rest. It is not as refined, but the food is good, and the tavern is… pleasant."

Josephine looks amused, tilting her head slightly. "Who is _us_ , Cassandra?" she asks.

Cassandra swallows thickly as she decides she likes the way Josephine says her name. Her fingers tighten their hold on the saddle. She wants to answer the way she meant it: Bull and Krem would be there, and Sera if she is not up for some mischief, but the answer feels wrong. "Join _me_ ," she corrects.

Josephine's smile is bright, and it does nothing to make the fluttery feeling in Cassandra's stomach go away.

"I'd like that."


End file.
